


Anti-kink: Ice and wax

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next installment in my anti-kink series (from my LJ <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a>).</p>
<p>Dean read about a new kink in...uh, a totally manly magazine and definitely not Cosmo...and he wants to try it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Ice and wax

******Ice and wax**   
  
  
“I should have known after the whole Dr. Sexy thing that it was only a matter of time. When _did_ you start reading _Cosmo_...?”  
  
“Fuck off. Look, the contrast of the heat and the cold sensitises the neuroreceptors; it’s supposed to heighten sensations and make you feel really good.”  
  
“Neuroreceptors?” Sam raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Wow. A fifty-cent word from Dean Winchester...Christo.”  
  
“No, seriously: fuck off. You don’t have a patent on research, geek boy.”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Okay, great. I’ll remember that on our next hunt.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, a ‘you’ll be lucky’ expression written all over his face. “That’s different. _Hunting_ research generally doesn’t lead to anything fun. In fact, more often than not it ends in pain.”  
  
“So says the guy who wants molten wax poured over his body...”  
  
Dean glared at him, not even dignifying that with a response. He didn’t very often push Sam into trying something new and he was damned well going to get what he wanted for a change. Stubborn little bitch of a brother with stupid puppy dog eyes, always getting his own way...  
  
“Fine,” Sam interrupted Dean’s internal rant, heaving a put-upon sigh. “But you’re not gonna like it.”  
  
“Don’t tell me what I will and won’t like,” bristled Dean.  
  
Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. His brother was either fifteen years old or a girl. Possibly both. He was beginning to think that Dean really did have a copy of _Cosmo_ somewhere, probably hidden shamefully underneath his skin mags.  
  
“Whatever, man. But when you don’t like it, don’t get all bitchy and blame me. And don’t flinch and kick me in the groin,” he added pointedly. That had been his first clue that his brother was ticklish along his inner thigh.  
  
“Shut up, dude. It’s gonna be awesome.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Uh...what the hell is that?”  
  
“It’s a candle. Dumbass,” replied Sam as he lit the article in question.  
  
“It’s really thick! And it’s black.”  
  
“Well, I’m only planning to pour wax out of it, not shove it in your ass – although, don’t tempt me. And what the hell does it matter what colour it is? Were you hoping for a nice romantic pink, perhaps...?”  
  
Dean scowled. “No, asshat. I just think we should use some nice, plain, _safe_ supermarket candles instead of ones that have been kicking around in the back of the Impala for, like, ten years and probably came from some...hoodoo priest or something!”  
  
Sam scoffed. “Quit being such a baby.”  
  
Manhood at stake, Dean stopped protesting. He efficiently stripped down and lay on Sam’s bed – no sense in getting gunk all over his own – with an expectant look at his brother.  
  
“Okay, put your hands up by the railings.”  
  
“Wait, wait, what?”  
  
“You’re supposed to be tied up.”  
  
“Says who?!”  
  
“Well...everyone! That’s just how this works!”  
  
“What are you, the sex police? We can do it however we want!”  
  
“Well, since you’re going to start flailing like a little girl as soon as you get burned, and I’ll be holding a naked flame, I want you tied up.”  
  
Dean huffed in aggravation, but finally nodded tersely. “Whatever. But you’re not cuffing me; remember how that turned out?”  
  
“So, what? Silk scarves?” mocked Sam, privately agreeing that handcuffs were a no-no. His nose hadn’t been broken, but he’d spent three hours with toilet paper shoved up his nostrils, which hadn’t exactly made him feel sexy.  
  
“Sam! Shut up. Just get some rope or somethin’. Jesus. At this rate I’m never gonna get laid.”  
  
“My heart bleeds.”  
  
Five minutes later, Dean was tied to the bed railings and Sam was settling himself beside him, also naked. Both of them were already hardening, the sight of each other’s fully nude bodies initiating a Pavlovian response. Sam ran his left hand over Dean’s muscled chest appreciatively while he reached for the candle with his right, dipping his hand a little lower to play over the tiny bit of pudge that he loved and Dean denied that he had.  
  
“Ice first!” ordered Dean, completely breaking the mood.  
  
Sam sighed, plonking the candle back down. “Okay. Where is it?”  
  
“Where’s what?”  
  
“The ice, moron.”  
  
“Uh, wherever you left it, genius.”  
  
“I didn’t get any ice! I thought _you_ were getting ice!”  
  
“Why the hell would _I_ be getting ice?” snapped Dean, and the question was so unreasonable that Sam couldn’t even think of a good response. “Go get some. Hurry up.”  
  
“Me? Why do I have to go? Why can’t you go?” whined Sam.  
  
Dean pointedly waved his bound hands. “Uh, hello?”  
  
“Fine,” gritted out Sam, making exaggerated huffs and sighs as he got to his feet and gracelessly shoved his way into his jeans and tee. “Where’s the ice bucket?”  
  
“Dunno. Try the cabinet by the TV.”  
  
Ten minutes, no ice bucket and an increasingly belligerent Dean later, Sam slammed out of the motel and stomped over to the machine. Not seeing any other option, he hunched over and awkwardly pressed himself against it, trying to position the bottom of his tee beneath the dispenser.  
  
He froze as a woman walked by, her steps faltering when she saw him.  
  
“Hello,” he said politely, and she hurried on by, averting her eyes, evidently convinced that he was some pervert trying to frot the ice machine.  
  
Great.  
  
By the time he got back to the motel, after enduring the slowest dispensing of ice in the history of mankind, half of the cubes had started to melt and he was feeling pretty soggy and cold. And most definitely not turned on.  
  
Then again, Dean apparently wasn’t either, if the way he was trying to channel surf by jabbing the remote control with his big toe was any indication.  
  
Glaring, Sam snapped off the TV with his elbow, trying to spot somewhere he could dump the ice.  
  
“Trash,” supplied Dean helpfully and Sam inclined his head in acknowledgement of the bright idea as he kicked over the little trash can to upend its contents. A bright idea that would have been particularly useful _before_ three separate people caught him humping the ice machine.  
  
Sam noticed that there were a few suspicious stains and smears on the metal, probably from the Thai food they’d had last night, but he doubted Dean would notice. So he quickly emptied the half-melted ice from his tee into it and gratefully stripped out of his wet garments.  
  
Dean flinched when Sam first touched a cube to his skin, close to his left nipple.  
  
“That’s cold!”  
  
Sam just looked at him for a moment. “Seriously?”  
  
“Yeah, okay. Just keep going.”  
  
Dean relaxed into the sensation after a minute or two, his nipples peaking and his skin pebbling as  
Sam trailed the ice over it, pausing to lap up stray droplets and caress the lines of the little rivulets every so often. Dean got hard, although Sam personally thought it had more to do with the licking and touching than the ice, but whatever.  
  
As Sam got close to Dean’s cock with the cube, he suddenly squirmed and blurted, “Wax! That’s enough ice; try the wax now!”  
  
Sam snorted, but dutifully put the ice away. He was keen to get through this bullshit and onto the sex; he and Dean had been busy on a hunt for a few days and hadn’t had chance to fuck – and before that he’d been cut off for an unfair four days just because a voyeuristic experiment had gone mildly wrong...His brother was such a jerk.  
  
Sam picked up the candle, noting that there was a good amount of melted wax. A really good amount actually, most of which was currently residing on the dresser and merrily dripping onto the bedspread. He quickly positioned it over Dean’s chest. “Ready?”  
  
“Bring it o...OW! Fuck!”  
  
Dean writhed for a moment before the wax cooled and began to harden against his skin.  
  
“Are your neuroreceptors enjoying themselves...?”  
  
“Shut up, bitch. I think you burned me! I’m pretty sure that the wax isn’t supposed to be that hot.”  
  
“Well, I don’t know how you expect me to change its temperature,” pointed out Sam, slightly irate with the whole thing.  
  
“Just...Okay, just try it again. Maybe I need to get used to it.”  
  
Dean didn’t get used to it.  
  
He hissed and squirmed and whimpered ( _“Dude, that was not a whimper! It was a...manly moan”_ ), and cussed and complained...and, worst of all, completely lost his erection.  
  
“Wax blows.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad something does,” muttered Sam, looking down at his limp, neglected dick and thinking how much better it would look with Dean’s mouth wrapped around it.  
  
Sam sighed and put down the candle. Dean was a mess, wax splattered haphazardly over his torso in oily-looking smears. Seeing that his brother was a little disappointed about the failure of his experiment, Sam straddled him and leaned over his body, pressing warm, wet kisses to his neck and jaw while he rocked their groins together. He felt Dean’s cock perk up in interest beneath him.  
  
Breathing across Dean’s mouth and smiling a little, he said playfully, “Seems I do a better job than ice and wax of sensitising you, huh?”  
  
“Seems so,” agreed Dean huskily, swiping his tongue across Sam’s mouth. He arched up against his brother, using his rope-bound wrists as leverage, and Sam groaned as their dicks slid against one another.  
  
Sam kissed Dean properly, lips catching and tongues tangling, and then lowered himself fully onto the beautifully stretched, supine form below him.  
  
And grimaced.  
  
“Ugh, you feel gross. Plasticy. It’s like lying on a blow-up doll.” At Dean’s eyebrow raise, he quickly added, “Not that I’d know what that feels like.”  
  
Snorting, Dean wriggled. “Yeah, feels weird on my skin. Kinda tight and like it’s tugging, you know? Peel some of it off...and then you can quit whining so we can fuck.”  
  
“Such a romantic, Dean...”  
  
“Hey, we’re having sex to _candlelight_ , Sam. I already need a new order of balls.”  
  
Sam smiled as he picked at the corner of one of the larger splodges of wax, just below Dean’s belly button. And then he tugged.  
  
“ARGH! Holy motherfucking shit, what are you doing to me?!” yelped Dean, and Sam looked down at the wax in his hand in bewilderment.  
  
It was full of dark hair.  
  
Dean and Sam both studied Dean’s former happy trail, which was now red and blotchy and extremely patchy.  
  
“So...looks like your order of girly sex comes with a free bikini wax,” commented Sam, trying not to laugh and failing spectacularly.  
  
“Jesus, Sam! You got that shit all over my chest and stomach! I’m gonna look like one of those tools who shaves his chest!”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Sam said condescendingly, “I know you think you’re ninety percent testosterone, Dean, but we both know you don’t _have_ any chest hair, so quit being such a drama queen.”  
  
“Okay, that’s it. Get off me and untie me; I gotta go wash this shit off – and then you can blow me for being a little bitch.”  
  
“What?! It’s so not my turn. I di–” Sam paused mid-word, sniffing the air. “What the hell is that smell?”  
  
“Have you set fire to something?”  
  
“What, something that smells like...charred animal? No, idiot.”  
  
Dean’s face suddenly cleared in realisation, quickly becoming alarmed. “Oh fuck.”  
  
“Oh fuck, what?”  
  
“I just realised where those candles came from. You remember when we were hunting those things in Louisiana that turned out to be, like, fairies or something?”  
  
“What?! _Fairies_? No!”  
  
“Oh, guess that was when you were at Stanford. Anyway, this woman in New Orleans gave us these candles so we could summon the little bastards...”  
  
“Okay, wait, are you telling me that you actually _did_ get these candles from a hoodoo priest?!”  
  
“Uh...yeah.”  
  
“Fuck, Dean! We’re burning fairy summoning candles?”  
  
Both of their heads whipped around as low buzzing sounds began emanating from various points in the room. Then there was the unmistakeable sound of malicious, impish laughter from somewhere near Sam’s left shoe.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
They were both whispering, although neither really knew why. Dean kinda wished he wasn’t tied naked to a headboard; this just couldn’t end well.  
  
“What are fairies like?”  
  
“Uhm...Bitey.”  
  
“Great.”  
  
Sam jumped as he felt a sharp sting on his ass, and then heard another one of those little chuckles that were already starting to grate on his nerves like crazy. “Ow!”  
  
“What? OW!”  
  
“You know what, Dean,” bitched Sam, rolling off his brother and searching around for something to kill the fairies with. A rolled up magazine, maybe? _Cosmo_ , preferably.  
  
“Don’t leave our dicks exposed!” cried Dean, sounding panicked.  
  
Ignoring him, Sam continued. “Next time I tell you that you’re not gonna like something, you’re gonna remember that I’m always right!”  
  
“Yeah, whatever. Stop talking and go find some poison ivy, stat! Burning that is the only way to get rid of them!”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“OW! Hurry the fuck up!” snarled Dean, trying to somehow tuck his cock between his legs.  
  
“Okay, fine! I’ll just...Where the hell are my clothes?”  
  
“Fairies can make things disappear – and they’re like little tricksters. Go get the goddamned poison ivy! Now!”  
  
As Sam searched, naked, through the woodland out back of the motel, only finding a patch of poison ivy when he fell flat on his ass into it, he reflected that his neuroreceptors really didn’t need this kind of stimulation.  
  
Dean so fucking owed him for this.  
  
  
  
THE END


End file.
